Surviving the Ride
by scratch conlon
Summary: Sarah Jacobs and Spot Conlon have always been like oil and water. Or maybe, oil and fire, two things that when added together created an explosion that left everyone burnt. But when the airport closes in a freak snowstorm Spot and Sarah are forced to embark on a road trip to be with a friend in need. 16 hours in a car is a long time.
1. Chapter 1

Sarah got the call on a cold Spring morning, walking to class with a coffee wrapped tight in her gloved hand. She answered it on the last ring, juggling her books and her drink.

"Hello?" she asked, breathless.

"Is this Sarah Jacobs?" A clipped voice asked on the other end.

"Yes?" She replied, slowing her walk and ducking under a tree to avoid the mist that had started.

"This is Lorraine with the Grandview General hospital; do you know a William Higgins?" She asked. Sarah's mind spun for half a second before she realized the woman on the phone was talking about Racetrack. Sarah hadn't been friends with Jack and David's group for long and realized she never even knew Race's real name. After a second, she realized the woman had said 'hospital' and a shot of panic tore through her.

"Yes, I do, is he alright?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even. She didn't know Race that well, didn't even know why he was called 'Race' by his friends.

She should _not_ be getting this call.

"He was in a car accident. You were listed as one of his emergency contacts. Can you come down to the hospital?" Sarah reeled. His emergency contact? Shouldn't that be his family or one of his closer friends?

"Yes, of course. What hospital is he at again?" Sarah asked, spinning in a circle to see what cross street she was at.

"Grandview General," she repeated, and Sarah furrowed her brows.

"Is that the new one in Brooklyn? I don't know the name," she asked. There was a momentary silence on the other end.

"Um, no, we're in Missouri," she said quietly.

"Missouri! What was Race doing in Missouri?" she wondered out loud.

"Can you come? There is one other emergency contact we're trying to get a hold of, but it would be best if you were both here. He's in surgery but the sooner you can be here the better," She explained.

"Yes, of course. It'll take me a while, obviously, but I'll come," she was about to hang up when she paused.

"Who is the other emergency contact?" she asked. There was a long pause and a shuffle of papers.

"Alexander Conlon," she said, and Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Of course, it was.

Sarah said goodbye and hung up the phone, standing under the tree a moment longer. What was she going to do? She did what she always does when she needed help, called her brother.

"Hello?" David answered, sleep thick in his voice.

"David, its me, I have to go to Missouri, do you have class today?" She asked.

There was a long pause on the other end, Sarah checked her screen to make sure the call hadn't disconnected.

"You need to…wait you need to go to Missouri?!" He asked incredulously.

"I just got a call, Race is in the hospital, I don't want to go alone," She said

"Race is in this hospital?! Wait, why did they call you?" He asked

"I guess I'm his emergency contact? I don't know but I have to go,"

"Why is _she_ his emergency contact?" Sarah heard Jack grumble in the background and her eyebrows narrowed in annoyance.

"David. I have to go, can you come with me or not?" She asked impatiently.

"Sarah, I have classes, I can't miss anymore, you know that," he answered.

"I figured that would be the case, I just didn't want to have to go alone," she sighed. She heard David moving about on the other end.

"It's okay David, sorry I woke you, I'll let you know when I figure out what I'm doing," She told him finally.

"Okay, be careful, I'll fill mom and dad in, and tell them you'll call later," He said, adding his goodbyes and hung up.

Sarah puffed out a breath of air which sent the curls around her face fluttering.

"Guess I'm going to Missouri," she muttered, turning on her heel and racing back towards her dorm room, she had to gather her stuff and see when the first flight out was.

She packed little more than an overnight bag; she technically didn't know what was wrong with Race, but she figured she wouldn't be long. A few shirts, and an extra pair of jeans, plus her pajamas. That was all she should need. Sarah picked up her heavy winter coat and warmest hat last minute after she checked the weather in Grandview, Missouri. While she did so she noticed that the sky outside her dorm was getting darker, heavy clouds pressing down on the tall buildings. She looked up the next flight into St. Louis and threw her bag on her shoulder, she'd have to hurry.

By the time she got to the airport, the weather had shifted again for the worse. Every tv in the subway stations and along the walk was turned to the weather channel, where they reported a freak snowstorm descending over Manhattan. Sarah hurried into the airport, pulling off her hat and shaking snow off her shoulders, it was already coming down fast. Spring snowstorms weren't unheard of, but she had to get to Missouri, and it couldn't wait.

The airport was packed with angry New Yorkers trying to get out of the city. The din was deafening, and Sarah had to navigate carefully between crowds of people or risk tripping over their many bags. She had bought her ticket on her phone on the way from her dorm earlier, but she stopped as she walked past the ticket counter. A huge line was forming, full of people trying to get refunds for canceled plane tickets, but that's not why she stopped.

"I don't give a damn if every plane in New York isn't flying. Either give me my damn money back or put my ass on a plane!"

At first it was he angry words that registered with her, her eyebrows knit together, she hated the way people could be sometimes. But then-then she heard the voice behind them. She stopped and peered around the long line, trying to see who was talking. She spotted a guy with his back to her, shaggy dark-blond hair with a beanie pulled low over his ears. He wore no coat and had his flannel shirt sleeves pushed up around his elbows, his arms crossed firmly over his chest as he stared the man at the counter down. Sarah let out an audible groan.

"Alex!" She called, but the tall boy didn't stop his tirade.

"Hey! Alex!" She tried again, moving a little past the line of people, drawing glares from the throng next to her.

He glanced over his shoulder with a glare that made his icy blue eyes shine from 10 feet away. Once he saw Sarah, he didn't stop glaring but he spat a reply at the man at the counter and grabbed his bag and turned.

"What are _you_ doing here?" He called as he walked over to her, mouth still set in a scowl.

"Race put me as the other emergency contact," She explained and Spot crossed his arms, though Sarah didn't know if it was from annoyance or cold.

"Why would he do that?" He demanded, as if Sarah actually had the answer.

"You can ask him when we get to Missouri."

"Well, fat chance of that, our plane is grounded. Any flights headed West are cancelled," he explained, pointing at a big wall of monitors, red peppering the entire board. They stood there for a second, still in the swirling commotion of the airport, Spot looked out the window and worked his jaw in frustration. Sarah looked down at her phone and sighed, pulling up her mother's cell number.

"I have a plan, just a minute," She said and turned away, walking a few feet before her mother picked up the phone.

"Mom? I have a weird favor to ask you."

"Okay, lets go," Sarah said striding up to Spot, her bag slung over her shoulder. While she had been on the phone he had posted up by the window, watching the snow fall in clumps.

"Where?" He asked, gesturing to the building snow.

"Come on, we're taking the subway to my parents place," she explained.

"Why would we do that?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"You're bad at answering them!"

Sarah glared at him. "My parents still have their old car in the garage of the apartment building," she answered finally. "Mom said we could take that to Missouri."

"Listen, I never said I was going with you," He said, stopping in his place, his duffle slung over his shoulder and his eyes narrowed. It was Sarah's turn to gesture to the falling snow.

"I don't see you coming up with any better ideas, and if you're so determined to go alone you can find your own way, but I'm going to be with Race," She said defiantly, walking down the stairs into the subway station, hearing Spot groan but follow behind.

"Why do your parents have a car still?" Spot asked, sitting across from Sarah on the subway a few minutes later. Sarah shrugged.

"They kept it when we moved to the city from Buffalo my senior year. They weren't sure how long they'd be here, so it seemed silly to sell it at the time," she explained, silently thanking her mother for taking such good care of it when it was in storage.

"I didn't know you moved here that recently," Spot said after a minute.

"Yeah well, it wasn't a big deal. Here's our stop," she said, standing and moving towards the exit, not really wanting to keep talking about moving. Sarah hadn't wanted to move at all. In fact, she petitioned her parents for her to keep living in Buffalo with her uncle and aunt to finish her senior year, but they wouldn't have their family separated, not even for a school year.

They walked in the Jacobs' apartment, Sarah flipping on the lights as they did. It was about noon on Tuesday, so both her parents were at work, and Les at school, so the apartment was dark and quiet.

Neither said anything for a moment as Sarah moved around the familiar space, it seemed too close, too quiet for the two of them, pressed into the dark.

Spot stood with his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, near the door but not touching anything, taking in the small apartment. Sarah could feel his eyes sweep over everything and she felt stupidly self-conscious. It was small, and even if Sarah hadn't wanted to move here, it was the closest thing that felt like home.

"Do you want coffee?" She called from the kitchen, pouring in the water.

"Shouldn't we get going?" Sarah could hear his voice travel nearer as he strode across the worn floorboards to lean in the doorway. Sarah shrugged.

"Have you looked how long of a drive it is? I don't want to get tired," She explained. Spot nodded.

"Yeah okay, coffee's good," He answered quietly, his eyes still searching the kitchen.

"You're welcome," Sarah muttered under her breath but if he heard her, he didn't let on. This was going to be a long trip.

Coffee had and keys retrieved they trekked out to the apartment's garage complex and pulled up the old door to their unit. They had to shove it up together to make the creaking wheels turn and they were out of breath by the end.

Sarah pulled down an old sheet that covered the car and Spot let out a low whistle when the old little SUV was revealed. She couldn't tell if he was being condescending or not.

"It still runs, my parents took good care of it," She said, yanking open the hinged back door and throwing her bag inside.

"This thing is ancient, are you sure?" He asked, doing the same and climbing into the passenger seat. Sarah was half surprised he didn't demand to drive, that just seemed like the kind of person he was, but she wasn't going to bring it up.

"It's only from the 90's, it's not that old, it's like the same age as us,"

"I'm pretty sure you're older than me."

"By a year, which makes me all the wiser, clearly."

Spot rolled his eyes in response but shut the door which a _thunk_ that shook the car a little. It was silent as Sarah pulled out and navigated the snowy, congested, New York streets. The radio played the weather in the background but neither spoke until they got out of the city. Spot was busy looking out the window, his fingers pulling at the threads of his jeans. There was something on his mind, his eyes glared at some non-existent bother out the window. Sarah was about to chalk it up to worry about Racetrack when he spoke.

"Do you and Race…" Spot trailed off, his voice breaking the silence like a snap.

"Are you hooking up with him?" He asked, his voice cold. Sarah swiveled her head so fast to glare at him that her neck hurt.

"What? Of course not, I didn't even know his real name until this morning," She fired back.

"Well what am I supposed to think? Why wouldn't his family or Jack be the one he calls? You have to be sleeping with him."

Sarah's nostrils flared.

"Listen, I barely know Race, I agree I shouldn't be here, but I am, and I'm determined to see it through. I tried to get David to come with me, but he couldn't miss anymore school, and by the way, you're welcome for even letting you come with me!"

"I could have found my own way just fine!" He shot back, his arms crossed again, but he was leaning towards her, almost egging her on.

"Well you didn't. But we've got to get to Missouri so we're going to have to live with each other." Sarah finally spat back.

"Fine!"

"Fine."

Sarah and Spot were always like this, oil and water. They couldn't get along for anything it seemed and even though Sarah's disposition was naturally sweet, there was something about that them clashed. It had been this way since they met, the summer before Sarah started college. They were at a party at one of Jack's friend's farmhouse outside the city. It was the start of summer and everyone was happy to be done with classes, and in Sarah's case, done with high school. While there were a few of her friends there, Sarah had gone with Jack as his date. She had heard Jack and David both talk about Spot before, but the first time she saw him was across the campfire that night. He was standing next to Race, laughing at something he said, his head tipped back, and his eyes screwed shut. She instantly felt drawn to him; in a way she didn't like. It was as if every time she glanced at him, he looked at her too. She held tighter to Jack's hand, pushing the thoughts out of her head.

Sarah didn't know what it was about that night. She didn't know if she could tell that Jack was spending too much time with David, or if she was worried about finding a job for the summer or what, but that night everyone learned that when you put Sarah Jacobs and Spot Conlon in the same room, things explode. It had started out so well. She had felt drawn to him, instantly wanted to be his friend, so when they both found themselves at the drink table, she turned to him with a smile.

"Hey, I'm Sarah, they call you Spot, right" She asked, just bold enough to use their stupid nicknames. But up close she could tell why it had been chosen, his skin was flecked with dozens, if not hundreds of freckles. Little pale red ones that made her surprised he wasn't a redhead.

"Yeah, or you know, Alex, my name," he said with a chuckle that lit up his face.

"Alex. Got it." She said, smiling back.

"So, you're Jack's girl, right?" He said while pouring himself a new drink. Her eyes darkened.

"Well, I'm dating him, but I wouldn't use that as my descriptor," she said, turning away from him to pour her own drink.

"Okay so what's your descriptor then?" He asked, giving her a once over she suddenly didn't like.

"That's a really weird question to ask someone you just met. What's your descriptor, if you're so keen on them?" She asked, her brows furrowed. He chuckled to himself, raising his drink to his lips to take a sip, smirking all the time, as if it was a private joke.

"_King_."

Sarah rolled her eyes. He was drunk and annoying. She turned and walked away without another word. Some of Jack's friends were so obnoxious. But, she reminded herself, they were a whole year younger than her.

Sarah had been talking to her friend about starting college, they were going to be roommates. Jack was off somewhere with David, and she still kept catching Alex's eye. She hadn't meant to, in fact she had immediately told her friend Jen about it, and they laughed at his stupidity but now they kept locking eyes again.

"Why does Spot Conlon keep staring at you?" Jen asked, thankfully omitting the obvious fact that Sarah was staring right back.

"I think I hurt his pride by walking away from him earlier, he'll get over it," she muttered, turning her back completely to him.

"Spot? Get over wounded pride? That'll be the day," Jen answered, sipping her drink.

The later the night got, the worse it seemed. Jack and David had only been talking to each other and Sarah was feeling forgotten. She sat by the fire, in a bubble that the rest of the party couldn't seem to touch. She hated feeling jilted, but she gave into the feeling the later it got.

"Hey, princess, need rescuing?" Sarah spun her head to see Alex sauntering over to her. His eyes shone even in the low light and Sarah looked away quickly.

"What's with you and royalty? Feeling self-important?" She didn't even know what made her say it, but it was out now. His smirk faded.

"Sorry for trying to be nice."

"That was you being _nice_? I'd love to see you _try_ to be condescending then." It was like her mouth was on fire and she didn't know where the words were coming from. He kept adding fuel to her flame.

"Damn, I see why Jacky-boy doesn't want anything to do with _you_ tonight," he shot back, his eyes narrowing at her. Her face colored scarlet.

"I don't know why David said you were nice, he normally has better taste than this," she said, returning his once over from earlier. He watched her eyes rake over him in judgement and looked over his shoulder to where Jack stood, leaning down and whispering something in David's ear, his hand on his shoulder.

"Clearly, neither of the Jacobs' have very good taste, or any self-preservation," he said, and it was nearly a whisper, but it struck the chord it meant to, and she could see the satisfaction in his eyes.

"Go to Hell, Conlon," she spat, standing and dumping her drink on him before stalking back to the car, the once loud party now dead quiet around her.

Spot kept checking his phone. Incessantly. He wasn't scrolling through social media, or looking at anything particular, but every few minutes he would stop whatever he was doing and check. His phone never left his hand. Sarah thought about telling him to cut it out. It would be what he would do, if the roles were reversed. But like clockwork he checked again, and she softened a little towards him without meaning to. He was worried about Racetrack. He was making sure he didn't miss any news. Sarah turned her eyes back to the road and thought.

"How did you and Race get so close?" She asked a while later, after stewing about whether to say anything. It had been quiet, the radio a soft hum in the background, and they were without cell service. Spot may even have been falling asleep because he jerked and repositioned himself when she asked.

"Uh, we grew up together," he answered, clearing his throat. Sarah liked taking him off guard, she actually got an honest answer.

"I thought you went to different schools?" She knew that Race had gone to the same high school that her and David had, that's how he had known Jack and his friends. Spot nodded.

"Yeah, but his cousins live in the same building I grew up in, so he was around most weekends. We were the only kids our age, so we played together. My older sister dated one of his cousins for a while," he answered, and Sarah paused for a minute, it was the most open she had ever head him talk. She learned more about him in that one breath then she ever had before.

"We're more like brothers, than friends," Spot said after Sarah hadn't answered for a minute. She looked at him and he was already looking at her. His blue eyes seemed soft, but she tore her brown ones away and back to the road.

"I'm sorry this all happened, I'm sure he'll be okay," she said. She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't reply.

"Why'd you move?" Spot asked, a few miles after he had let the conversation drop. She glanced at him, but he was folded in on himself, looking out the window. It was as if he hadn't even spoken.

"It was weird actually. We lived in the house my dad grew up in, because he was taking care of my grandmother. She died my Junior year and despite the fact my dad had taken care of her until the last day, she left my uncle the house, instead of my dad. We moved to the city so my parents could find work. It was too painful for my dad to stay there," she explained.

"Damn, that's messed up. Your uncle seriously did that?" He asked, a venom in his voice she hadn't expected.

"Yeah, it was kind of a big mess. But, in the end, I'm happier we moved than I thought I would be," she admitted, realizing for the first time how true it was.

"Yeah, otherwise I'd have to find a different ride to Missouri," he joked, and Sarah cracked a smile, it almost, _almost_ felt like an apology.


	2. Chapter 2

"So, whatever happened between you and Kelly?" Spot asked, a few miles down the road. Sarah shot him a look. She could never tell if he was being serious or not.

"What's with all this interest in my love life?" She asked, thinking about his accusation earlier.

"Hey, Race is my best friend, I had a right to ask that," he argued, and Sarah could feel storm clouds gathering again.

"What right do you have to ask about this?"

"None really, but no one seems to know anything about it and we have-" he checked the clock, "five more hours in the car before we stop for the night." Sarah took a deep breath and glanced at the clock too. He was right, they still had a serious amount of driving left to do today. She changed the subject as smoothly as she could.

"We should find a town to stay in tonight, somewhere to aim for," she said. She wasn't sure Spot was going to let the conversation slide, but he did without complaint as he pulled out his phone to look at the map.

"Columbus is about halfway," he said, zooming in on the little dot. Sarah shook her head.

"Pick a small town, the hotel prices will be cheaper." Spot shot her a look, undoubtedly not liking being told what to do. Sarah shrugged. "Unless you're secretly made of money." Spot ignored the dig and continued looking for a stop on the map. Sarah thought while he scrolled. Everyone always wanted to know what happened between her and Jack. It hung over her like a storm cloud that would never clear. The more she thought about it, the more tired she became. This wasn't supposed to be her legacy, she didn't want to be tied to Jack forever.

"I dated Jack almost two years ago," she said quietly a moment later. She could see Spot look up at her in surprise, but he didn't say anything, just looked at her. "Why does everyone still bring it up? Why do you even want to know?" She asked, still not looking at him. She wasn't sure why she reopened this line of questioning, but if this topic was going to come up, she'd prefer it happen on her terms.

"Like I said, everyone knows it happened, but no one knows exactly how. With Race around, you hear the gossip, whether you want to or not. I like David, but he won't talk about it, I figure that makes him a good brother." He said finally.

Sarah looked at him again, her eyes straying from the road without permission. She hadn't thought about people asking David what had transpired. She liked to think of her brother as an innocent standby in all that, but she supposed it wasn't true.

"There's not much to say, I was young, Jack was even younger. I dated him because he was charming and we got along," she paused and thought a minute, but Spot didn't interrupt. "But look at him and David. Anyone with eyes can see that they are meant to be together. The second he saw David for the first time it was over between Jack and me. There was nothing anyone could do," she said with a smile and a disbelieving shake of her head.

"I want to move on, I don't want people to think that I was jilted or that I'm waiting around for my brother's boyfriend, eesh!" She said with a laugh that seemed to surprise Spot but when she looked over, he was smiling too and had a glint in his eye that she didn't recognize. She thought he might say something but he stayed quiet.

"Can I ask about your love life now?" She laughed, Spot laughed too, a sound that rang out like bells and took her by surprise.

"Fat chance Jacobs, I don't kiss and tell," but he looked at her lips as he said it and she felt her heart flutter in a way that she didn't much like.

Sarah hummed along to the radio two hours later, the earlier moment forgotten. The roads were finally clearing. They were leaving the snow behind and both her and Spot had shed their winter coats to the back seat, the setting sun streaming in through the windows and heating up the car with pre-Spring warmth. They hadn't spoken in a few miles except for general comments and an ongoing attempt to find a radio station they both liked. Sara Bareilles' _King of Anything _played, and Sarah sung along softly, her fingers tapping out the beat on the steering wheel. It was 'an oldie but a goodie', as her father liked to say. Abruptly the song was cut as the station switched and Sarah glared at Spot just as he pulled his hand away from the radio. She met his eyes and switched it back.

"Hey! I like this song!" She protested and Spot slapped her hand away from the radio and switched it again.

"Well I _don't_," he glared at her. Sarah stared at him in disbelief and switched it back to her song, gesturing wildly to the radio as Sara Bareilles sang "Who died and made you king of anything". Sarah never took Spot for stupid but if he missed the irony, she would have to rethink her perception of him. The rush of red to his face and the way his eyes snapped at her told her he did not, in fact, miss the irony. He smashed the off button on the radio with the flat of his hand and when Sarah took her turn in smacking his hand away, nothing happened when she pushed the button back on. She tried a few more times but the radio waves stayed silent. She groaned and threw her head back against the head rest.

"Are you happy?" Now we don't have _any_ music for the rest of the trip," She glared at him and he crossed his arms, looking away.

"We might even have to talk to each other," He said sarcastically, and Sarah rolled her eyes for the benefit of no one but herself.

"Is your whole goal on this trip to drive me insane?" She asked under her breath, wishing, not for the first time, that she could call David and tell him all about Spot's behavior.

"No, but hey, two birds, one stone," he muttered equally as low, but Sarah didn't give him the gift of a response. She needed to learn to just shut up when Spot was like this. They just egged each other on and if Sarah would just disengage, it would all end. She stewed in the suddenly loud silence and glanced over at Spot, searching for something. What was it about him that made her so crazy? He looked out the window, his eyes hard and brow furrowed. Was he thinking the same thing about her? If they could just _talk_ about it- Sarah shook her head sharply- there was no talking to Spot Conlon that could get you anywhere. It just led to more questions and no answers.

Sarah yawned, eyeing the sign for the next rest stop, lit up in the now dark night. It had been a few hours and the sun had set in a brilliant display of oranges and reds that lit up Sarah's face like a painting. They had stopped for a quick dinner, anxious to get back on the road and to their stop for the night, a little town in Ohio named Gretna. And now night it was, and Sarah was tired.

"I'm going to pull over, can you drive? I'm getting really tired," she asked, taking another drink of cold coffee. Spot didn't say anything, and Sarah looked over at him. He wasn't facing her, and had his chin tucked into his chest. He was probably asleep.

"Spot?" She reached for him. To shake him awake, but her hand stopped before it touched him, hovering over the bare skin on his arm, freckles peeking out from under his shirt sleeve. She saw his fingers tense, a tic of his she had noticed when he was upset. She dropped her hand and sighed.

"Spot, seriously, I'm going to fall asleep. It's only another hour or so until we get to Gretna, can you take over?" She asked, annoyance lacing her voice. Spot sighed and turned to look at her, his eyes cold and slate grey in the darkness.

"You can't make it another hour? Seriously?" He asked, doing that annoying thing where he looked at you like you weren't living up to one of his dumb expectations. Sarah had pulled into the rest stop by now and she slammed on the brakes, snapping her head to glare at him as he caught himself from jolting.

"I'm not your chauffer, Conlon. Pull your own weight." She insisted, but it just made Spot narrow his eyes at her, his face all screwed up in annoyance.

"It's your car, I'm not driving it!" He fired back.

"I'm taking you to see _your_ best friend." She reminded him, "Drive, or get really well acquainted with the side of the highway!" She knew she wouldn't follow through on her threat but the part of her that was tired and so mad she could spit _really_ wanted to dump him in the middle of nowhere Ohio.

"I don't know how to drive, okay?!" He shot back going red in the face, all the way up to his ears, really. Sarah paled. His sudden coloration was clearly from embarrassment, not anger. The declaration hung between them, and Sarah held her breath, afraid to break the silence.

She felt bad. Of course, she had no way of knowing, but she didn't like to make people feel bad about things they couldn't do, even Spot Conlon, the thorn in her side. Instead of saying anything she tore her eyes from his, realizing they had been looking at each other longer than the customary few seconds, and drove back out onto the highway. She felt plenty awake now. Oh, how'd she kill for the radio to still be working, the highway noise was not enough to stifle the bad feelings in the car.

She needed to say something, to apologize.

"Listen, I- "

"Save it." Spot cut her off, arms folded, looking out his window. Sarah tried to see his reflection in the glass, to work out that look in his eyes, but it was impossible to read. She turned back to the road.

"No, I'm sorry. Really. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that," She said quietly, glad he hadn't interrupted her apology again. A short un-funny laugh spilled from his lips.  
"All we do is snap at each other, no need to start apologizing now," he muttered. Sarah pressed her lips together. He couldn't even accept her apology without a subtle dig at her. There was no one, not even her younger brothers that could make Sarah lose her temper like this. Before meeting Spot, she didn't think she had much of a temper at all. Her mother used to say that Sarah had the longest fuse in the world, it was impossible to get her properly angry. Well, her mother hadn't seen her with Spot. She took a few deep breaths. She would try.

"Do you want to learn?" She asked, her voice calm.

"_What_?" Spot said incredulously.

"Do you want to learn to drive?" She looked at him, confusion written across his features. "I could teach you." He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

"Why?" He asked.

"Well, it's a pretty useful skill, and I figure that sort of thing is important to you- "

"No, why would you teach me?" He interrupted again. Sarah shrugged, trying to keep her tone light.

"What better place to learn than when we have nothing else to do but drive?" She could still feel his eyes on her face.

"Why do you think it's important to me?" He asked suddenly, referencing her earlier explanation. She kept quiet for a second, weighing what to say.

"Well, you put on this front, right? Tough guy who doesn't need anyone to rely on?" Without missing a beat, Spot blurted, "It's not a front," His eyes hadn't left the side of her face, but Sarah concentrated on every streetlight they went under. She hadn't finished her earlier thought but abandoned it for now.

"If you don't need anyone, why are we driving in the middle of the night to get to Racetrack?" He tore his eyes away from her then.

"You've got it wrong; he needs _me_." He said quietly. Sarah looked at him, and thought otherwise.

"We all need people, Spot. You don't have to be tough all the time," Sarah whispered after a moment had passed but Spot was silent.

It was late by the time they reached the hotel, but Sarah was wide awake. Their earlier conversation played through her mind like a record, it was better than coffee, she was hardly tired anymore. They hadn't spoken much the rest of the drive; Spot had stayed silent until Sarah urged him to start calling hotels in town. They were in the middle of nowhere, but there was a baseball tournament in the county and almost every hotel was booked up. It looked like they might have to keep driving to the next town but finally the last hotel Spot called said they had two rooms available. With a promise to hold them, Sarah and Spot made their way there.

Sarah swung her bag over her shoulder, walking into the too cold lobby. It was warmer here, and no snow, but the AC still felt drastically premature. Spot was right behind her as they walked up to the front desk.

"Hi, we need two rooms please," Sarah said with a smile. The man standing behind the desk smiled back at her.

"Of course, just a moment," he said as Spot dropped his bag noisily next to Sarah's.

"Oh. It looks like we only have one room left for the night," The man said apologetically. Sarah stared at him, but Spot spoke first.

"No, I just spoke to you on the phone an hour ago. You said you had two rooms and would hold them," He said, his voice hard. Sarah glanced at him, hoping he wasn't going to be too rude; she remembered his anger at the clerk in the airport. Had that only been this morning?

The man's smile slipped. "The shift changes at 11. You must have spoken with Robert, he was on before me," he explained, and Sarah heard Spot sigh forcefully.

"What's the room?" He asked, his voice still cold. The man looked down at his screen.

"Second floor, two queen beds." Sarah exhaled involuntarily. _That_ she could handle. Spot apparently felt the same way.

"Fine," he said, slapping a credit card down on the counter. Sarah looked at him and he shrugged.

"You're driving," was all the explanation he gave. Had he just done something unquestionably nice for her? Sarah tried to put it out of her mind. She was sure it would pass.

Sarah was quiet as they trudged up to their room. Room. Singular. What would David think when she told him she had spent the night in a hotel room with Spot Conlon? She could see the look on his face now. Her eyebrows knit together. It could be worse. It could have been one bed and then Sarah would feel like she was in one of those Hallmark movies her mother and her (and eventually David) watched over the holidays together. Sharing a room was one thing, a bed would have been out of the question.

Spot slid the key in the door and pushed it open, revealing a small room, two beds-as promised- and a bathroom off to one side. There was a window, but the curtains were pulled closed. Sarah walked in, inhaling the way the room smelled, the same way every hotel smelled, no matter where in the world she was. It was a small comfort in the weirdest day of her life. Before Sarah could even claim her bed, her day got even weirder.

"Okay, so. Teach me to drive," Spot said, still standing by the door, his bag at his feet and a surprisingly open expression on his face. Sarah stared at him. Without saying anything she checked the time on her phone. Almost midnight. Did she owe it to him? She was the one who offered, after all. In fact, she had noticed that the hotel backed up to an empty lot surrounded by fields, the perfect place to teach an aggressive know-it-all to drive. Plus, she knew if she went to bed now, in this too small room with Spot so close, their earlier conversation on her mind, that sleep wouldn't come anyway.

"Okay," she relented, "lets teach you to drive."


	3. Chapter 3

This was it. Sarah was about to teach Spot Conlon how to drive a car. If she had had worse ideas, she couldn't remember any of them now. She thought of the way he had exploded earlier, embarrassment crawling up his face with his revelation that he didn't know how to drive. She had certainly never seen Spot embarrassed before. As they walked out to the car in the cool night air, Sarah could feel Spot's nervousness billowing off him like smoke. It made Sarah nervous too. They reached her black SUV and she gave the keys to him gingerly, their fingers brushing as the cold metal passed between them.

Sarah took a couple of deep breaths as she walked around the car. What was she doing? She had never taught someone to drive before, she barely remembered learning herself. She wasn't sure how much he had learned in the past, if anything. She didn't want to insult him by repeating information. Sarah didn't think Spot was stupid, and she never wanted him to think she did.

"So. What do you know?" She asked, getting in the car and pulling the door shut behind her. She tried to keep her tone light, but it sounded forced, much like this whole situation.

"Basics," he replied. Sarah nodded.

"Okay, put the key in the ignition and turn it to the right until it turns on, but then let go, you don't want to grind it," she instructed, surprised Spot didn't say anything after. His normally fluid, confident movements became shy and awkward. She wasn't sure she liked seeing Spot like this, and she was fairly confident he didn't like her seeing him this way either.

"Put your foot on the brake and take the parking brake off-that's this one," she instructed touching the brake lightly just as Spot's hand came down on it. She snatched her hand away and folded it into her lap. He didn't say anything, so she continued.

"Shift it into drive and let your foot off the brake slowly," she said. The car rolled forward and Spot slammed on the brakes so hard in response that Sarah had to catch herself on the dash.

"Sorry," he muttered, not looking at her. He got going again and slowed down, smoother this time, gripping the steering wheel with such force his knuckles were white.

Sarah walked him through a few more basics and how to reverse before the silence and curiosity got the best of her.

"Why didn't Racetrack ever teach you how to drive?" She asked as Spot did a second loop around the lot. He spared the tiniest of glances at her, eyes snapping back to the road.

"He doesn't know," he said.

"He doesn't know you don't know how to drive?" She asked incredulously.

Spot just shot her a glare.

"But he's your best friend," she insisted.

"He never asked. We live in New York, no one needs to drive there," he explained. She let it drop for now. She didn't know how to ask what was on her mind. Why was he so nervous, _scared_ even? Spot was calm (well sometimes), confident, even cocky. She figured this behavior signaled something deeper, but Sarah didn't know how to get at it. She offered a few more tips while Spot drove around the little lot and she thought.

"Want to try going around town? Should be pretty deserte-"

"No." He cut her off, stopping the car and parking it where they sat. He yanked the parking brake back up and shut the car off, the night suddenly quiet around them. She took a deep breath sitting in the silence for a moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked, her voice little more than a whisper in the silence that surrounded them.

"Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about," Spot said, not looking at her, his voice harsh. She didn't say anything for a second, not sure if she should press the issue. But when she looked at Spot his face was ashen and tense.

"What happened?" She finally asked, trying to keep her voice calm, to keep the urgency she felt out of it. He glanced at her as she spoke, fleeting, and pulled his eyes back in front of him.

"Nothing," he insisted, closing his eyes for a brief second. She waited. She wasn't convinced that this was nothing. If silence is what it took, then she would do her best to still the questions that she so badly wanted answered.

He glanced at her again.

"My dad died in a car crash when I was ten. Drunk driver," He said, his voice laced with such venom Sarah sat back in her seat.

"Oh my god," she muttered before she even realized she was about to speak.

"I know. But save your 'I'm sorrys', Cause I'm not," he said, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. Sarah stared at him.

"Spot…"

"No, Sarah, you don't understand, my dad was the drunk driver. Both my sister and me were in the car," he said, cutting her off. She stopped, didn't say anything. He was right, she didn't understand. She pictured Spot at that age, all blonde hair and freckles. Concern clutched at her chest.

"He picked us up from school like any normal day, and then on the way home, accidentally crossed the middle line and hit a pickup truck. I don't remember most of it," He said, and Sarah wasn't sure if he really didn't, or if he just didn't want to. Her stomach turned from thinking about it.

"Were you okay?" She asked quietly, unable to keep the question inside her any longer. He turned and looked at her, meeting her eyes. His eyes were hard, a question reflected in the deep blue. He just gazed at her for a second and Sarah didn't look away. Didn't flinch under his scrutiny. His brows pulled together for just a moment and he seemed to come to a decision. He bent his head to the side and pushed his hair out of the way of his ear. At first Sarah didn't see anything. She figured she was searching for a scar. But then she saw a thin clear tube snaking around the top of his ear and inside it. She realized what it was instantly.

"You lost your hearing?" She asked. Spot let his hair fall back and looked at her.

"I hit my head so hard I ruptured my eardrum. I'm completely deaf in my right ear," he said, his voice steadier now than it had been all night. But Sarah didn't feel steady. She pushed down the feelings that rose in her chest like water. She wasn't sorry, necessarily. She felt sad for the little boy who had to go through so much, she felt bad about how much his life had changed in that once instance. But she didn't pity him. And she didn't want him to think she pitied him, because if he thought that, Sarah would lose what little ground she had gained. She sat silent for a second, holding Spot's gaze and trying to get ahold of everything she felt, to not accidentally say the wrong thing and lose him forever.

"What are you thinking?" He blurted. She smiled a little at his impatience. But she could see the suspicion on his face. She knew he had likely heard a lot of bad responses to his being deaf and she didn't want to repeat that mistake.

"I'm thinking that I'm happy you shared that with me. And I have a couple of questions, if you don't mind," she said.

He blinked his eyes down but settled his gaze back on hers, turning in his seat to face her a little more.

"Alright. What do you want to know?"

"I won't tell other people your business, but is it a secret? If it comes up, should I pretend not to know?" she asked.

"Pretend not to know I'm deaf?" He asked with a smirk. She felt a little silly but continued.

"Well, yeah. I didn't know before now, didn't even suspect and I don't know if you would prefer it to keep looking like that," she said, and he laughed.

"No, of course not. But you don't have to worry, it doesn't come up. People don't talk about it," he said.

She briefly wondered if that was a signal to shut up, but she forged on.

"Why not? What if you don't catch something someone said?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Then they repeat what they said like they would to a hearing person. But people are weird about disabilities, it's easier to pretend it doesn't exist rather than act like it's normal," he said.

"Race is the only one who acknowledges it in any real way. But he can sign. The others just pretend its not there," he continued.

"Wait, does David know?" She wondered if David would have told her if he did. Spot's mouth ticked up at that.

"Yeah. I don't know if Jack told him or if he figured it out on his own but he makes a habit of facing me so I can see him talk or standing to my left where I can hear him better," he said.

Sarah felt a swell of pride for her younger brother. He was good. In every sense of the word.

"So, you sign?" she asked, feeling slightly more comfortable as Spot opened up like she hadn't seen before.

He nodded. "I'm not fluent or anything. I mean, I was ten, and never went to a deaf school but I can sign pretty well."

"And Racetrack can too? Did he already know how?"

"No, he learned with me. You know Race, he gets hooked on things and needs to learn everything about it. And he's a good friend," he added. She didn't say anything for a moment, thinking about Spot and Race learning to sign together as kids.

"Thank you for telling me about all of this, and for trusting me," Sarah said quietly, the night settling around them. Spot glanced away, looking out of the windshield into the night.

"Yeah well, I figured you wouldn't stop pestering me until I did," he said with a smirk. Sarah rolled her eyes but smiled. Good natured teasing she could handle. _This_ Spot Conlon she could handle. Open, easy, some of his carefully constructed barriers down in the darkness that surrounded them.

She was so caught up in the moment she jumped when a sharp knock sounded at Spot's window. He turned and Sarah looked over his shoulder to see a police officer peering inside. Spot's expression darkened as he cranked down the window.

"What are you kids doing out here?" The cop asked, peering into the car at them. Sarah silently hoped Spot would have enough sense to lie, he didn't have a driver's license or a permit, and Sarah was fairly sure an Ohio police officer wouldn't take too kindly to two New York kids driving around illegally after midnight.

"We just got into town," Spot answered, and Sarah let out a breath.

"You kids can't be out here," the man said shortly, barely waiting for Spot to speak. His hat was low over his eyes and in the dim light Sarah could barely see his face.

"We're staying at the hotel," Spot answered, just as short. The cop shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. You can't just sit here," he said.

"We're not doing anything illegal," Spot argued, and the man narrowed his eyes at him. Sarah bit her lip. They decidedly _were_ doing something illegal.

"Listen kid, if you don't want to spend the night in jail just go back to the hotel."

Sarah could practically feel Spot bristle at that. She reached out and touched his elbow lightly and he turned his head to face her a little.

"Alex," was all she could say, her voice a warning to calm down. He took in her expression and huffed out a breath.

"Fine," he spat at the cop turning the key in the ignition, the car roaring to life underneath them. The cop looked passed Spot at Sarah. His gaze raised the hairs on the back of her neck and she instinctively looked away.

"She's a smart girl, you should keep her around," he said. Sarah's eyes shot up, full of venom but the cop had already turned and walked away across the lot. Spot held the steering wheel tightly as he pulled back into the main lot, like he had been doing it all his life. Whatever had been between them had shattered and they didn't speak until Spot slammed the car door closed behind him.

"Power hungry son of a bitch," he spat as he threw the keys to Sarah. She caught them, but there was no ease in it.

"I know," she answered. She didn't like interactions like that, no matter how brief and she wanted to forget it immediately.

"We weren't doing anything. He had no right!"

"I _know_," she insisted. Trying not to picture what it was the cop thought they were doing, or about to do.

"I don't know who he thinks he is, we were just talking," he said, and Sarah didn't bother answering. They were walking up the hotel stairs to their room now and Sarah had to practically jog to keep up with Spot's quick, angry pace.

"And if he hadn't walked away after what he said about you, I was going to kill him," he said, eyebrows furrowed and glaring as he threw open the door to their room. Sarah watched him walk inside and followed, her own eyebrows drawn together.

"Thanks, Spot but I can fight my own battles," she said, walking past him to the bed by the window. He had stopped and looked up at her when she passed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and when she looked up, he was still looking at her.

"Earlier you called me Alex." It wasn't a question. Sarah looked away from him.

"Well I wasn't going to call you 'Spot' in front of a cop who already didn't like us," she explained.

"Ah," was all he said, and Sarah didn't reply. It was well past midnight now and she was tired. It may have very well been the longest day of her life, and she had so much to process.

Spot's quick temper at the police officer wasn't surprising. In fact, it had gone better than she feared it would. But she bristled when he implied she couldn't protect herself. That was what he was doing wasn't he? But maybe it was just his temper and bravado getting in the way. She still had so many questions. What had happened in the car and how had they lost it so quickly? Spot had voluntarily opened up to her and she learned more about his life in those short few minutes than she had ever known before. And she found herself wanting to know more. She wanted to know how school had been for him with half his hearing gone. She wanted to know why he kept his deafness to himself. She wanted to know why he trusted _her_ to teach him how to drive a car when not even his best friend in the world knew he couldn't.

A few minutes later before getting into bed she looked over at Spot, in long pajama pants and a t-shirt, rifling through his duffle bag. She took a shaky breath. So much had happened in such a small amount of time. He seemed to sense her gaze and looked up at her, his face holding none of the easy openness it had in the car.

"Goodnight," she called not breaking eye contact, holding on to it. Wondering how the night had gotten away from her.

"Night," he replied and turned away.


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah shifted in bed, the scratchy hotel blankets slipping off her arms and waking her. It took her a minute to remember where she was and who she was with. She stilled, listening to the deep sound of Spot's breathing across the room. He was still asleep. Sarah didn't know what to think after yesterday. It all seemed different in the morning, they had something fragile between them and she knew even the light of day might crack it.

She laid there a moment longer before getting up, her eyes straying to Spot as she crossed the small space to the bathroom. His blond hair was tussled over his forehead, his face empty of the edge it so often possessed. He looked young, his freckles dark in the washed-out light. The heat kicked on in the vent under the window. It hummed quietly and the force of it sent the curtains swaying, the soft beams of early morning washing across his face. As if he were underwater, or standing by the East River, far away in New York, the light shining off the waves. She had never seen him like that, but she could picture it now. Smiling, happy, young, two people walking down the street, nothing holding them back. She had often wondered about the edge that Spot possessed. He was so unwilling to trust people. He had judged everything Sarah had done up to this point, she hadn't been able to figure out why. Now she knew a little better, even if it wasn't the full story.

She stood there only a second before coming to her senses and hurrying to the bathroom. She was _not_ going to get caught looking at Spot Conlon. She took her shower and put the thoughts out of her head. When she emerged from the bathroom 20 minutes later, hair damp, Spot was up and dressed, his duffle zipped and on his bed.

"Oh sorry, I hope I didn't wake you," she apologized when he turned to face her. He barely looked at her.

"Are you ready?" he asked, slipping his phone into his pocket and his bag on his shoulder. Sarah hurried across the room.

"Uh, yeah. Let me just grab my stuff," she answered, repacking her bathroom things in her bag.

"I'll meet you downstairs," he said and was out the door by the time Sarah looked after him. She furrowed her brow then shook her head. She shouldn't be upset about the way he acts; he's always been that way and last night didn't change anything. That easy openness they had shared in the car had been lost with the morning sun.

Neither Sarah nor Spot were in the habit of sleeping late or taking a long time to dress for the day so when they got on the road a few minutes later, the sun had just fully pulled itself over the horizon. Sarah was now also fairly confident that Spot, despite the time he woke up, was not one to talk in the morning.

Or maybe it was just _this_ morning.

He stayed nearly silent for the first two hours, one-word answers here or there when Sarah got up the courage to say something. Was it about last night? She replayed the evening in her head for the millionth time. Sure, he was upset about the experience with cop, but she suddenly remembered he also seemed upset she hadn't continued to call him Alex. Could that really be it? Did he prefer she didn't use the nickname he seemed to go by to everyone else? It was a moot point because she wasn't going to muster up the courage to call him Alex again out of the blue. She only did so when they were in a public place and she didn't want to be caught calling a grown man "Spot".

By the third hour the snow began to fall again as they crossed from Ohio into Indiana. Sarah started concentrating on the road in earnest, which at least took her mind off other matters. Her meager attempts at conversation fell off and they watched the world go by in a blur of white.

"Why don't you like the snow?" Spot asked, at least fifty more miles down the road. Sarah blinked, surprised to hear anything but the sound of snow crunching beneath the tires. She glanced at him and his whole body was turned, looking at her.

"What? I don't dislike snow, why would you think that?" she asked, returning her eyes to the road.

"Well, look at you," she resisted the urge to do the opposite and look at him.

"I don't like anything I glare at like that," he said. It was only then that Sarah realized her eyebrows were drawn together, her jaw locked tight.

"You glare at everything," she argued.

"I do not." He bristled under her accusation. She almost laughed.

"You're practically glaring right now!" She said.

"I'm not glaring! This is just my face!" he explained but Sarah shook her head.

"Not true. I've seen you look differently," she said thinking about the open look on his face last night. "So I take it back," she continued, "You don't always glare, but apparently you do it so often you think it's just how your face looks, which might actually be sadder," she said with a laugh.

Spot shook his head in frustration, his arms crossed across his chest.

"I was asking why you don't like the snow, don't turn this around on me."

"I'm not glaring. I'm just concentrating on the road. I happen to love snow; I grew up in Buffalo remember?" She asked and saw Spot tip his head in acknowledgement.

"Don't you? Like snow, that is?"

"Before this whole mess happened, maybe. But now?" he said, glancing out the window at the world gone white. Sarah didn't respond. The snowstorm had stuck them together on this ill-fated journey. It's not like Spot was exactly enjoying himself

Spot had apparently seen Sarah's eyebrows creep back together.

"Hey. Uh, I didn't mean being stuck with you was bad, or anything," Spot started but Sarah kept quiet for a moment.

"I mean, shit. I mean, snow's fine. This is all…fine," he said, looking away from her and running a hand through his hair.

"Thank you for offering to drive," he said looking back at her, his eyes serious. "It means a lot that you're worried about Race," he offered and Sarah looked at him, meeting his eyes for the moment she could take her's off the road.

"Don't worry, the snow has been kind of a burden, I know what you meant," she said, happy to be reassured. He laughed a little, that grin of his spreading across his face slowly, willing her own smile out of hiding.

"The snow's been a _bitch_, Sarah, it's okay, you won't hurt its feelings," he said, and when she glanced at him his eyes were light.

"And hey," he said after a moment, "about last night, I'm sorry about what I said about you and the cop, I know you can fight your own battles."

Sarah fought the urge to tear her eyes from the road again.

"I heard the story a million times of you decking Morris Delancey when he tried to kiss you a few years back," he said and out of the corner of her eye, Sarah could tell he was smiling.

"Who'd you hear that from? I didn't know anybody talked about it, or even knew about it."

He shrugged and smiled, "Little bird told me."

Sarah knew that instantly that meant Racetrack had told him. She was gathering that Race had his finger in his own fair share of gossip pools.

"Well, thanks for saying that. Not that telling off a police officer is on the same level as punching someone who's harassing you, but I appreciate it nonetheless," She said.

"I would have paid good money to see you take a Delancey down," he said under his breath a moment later and Sarah's laugh echoed in the small car.

"You can go faster than that, it's a parking lot, not a series of endless stop signs," Spot berated, leaning forward in his seat. Sarah didn't grace him with an answer. Ever since they were 50 miles outside Grandview, Missouri, Spot had been hurrying Sarah along, visibly anxious, shifting in his seat, his phone clutched tight in his hand.

"There's a spot right there!" He said, pointing impatiently to a parking spot. Sarah clenched her jaw and tried not to be annoyed with him. He was just anxious to see his friend. But that didn't mean he hadn't given her a headache. As they got out and approached the hospital, even Sarah's normally quick pace wasn't enough to keep up with Spot. He kept slowing down to match her, but not without glaring over his shoulder.

"You go ahead, I'm going to call David and tell him we're here, I know the room number, I'll find it," she reassured, stopping in the lobby of Race's floor. Spot barely spared a glance back and a nod of his head as he rounded the corner without her.

She really did want to call David, but she also wanted to give Spot and Race a moment to themselves. She knew what having family in a car crash was like and she didn't want to intrude on that moment of vulnerability she knew Spot wouldn't want her to see

"You're alive! I feel like you dropped off the face of the planet," David said, his voice bright on the other end of the call.

"Hi, it's good to hear your voice, and don't worry, I feel like I did," she said, smiling.

"So, are you surviving the ride with Spot?" he asked, and Sarah couldn't help but laugh. She had a lot of ground to cover.

Sarah told him the lot of it. Well, most of it. She left out the teaching Spot to drive part, and him revealing that he was deaf. It was too intimate, and it wouldn't seem to cross her lips, no matter her intention.

"Mom and Dad are worried, you should give them a call later," he said when she was finished.

"Alright, I will when we get to our hotel tonight," she paused. "I don't even know where we're staying, we haven't figure it out yet," she thought out loud, concern accidentally filling her voice.

"That doesn't sound like you Sarah, normally you have everything planned."

"I know, but there's been so much going on, it must have slipped my mind. I'll figure it out David, don't worry," she said, reassuring herself as much as him.

"I know, _I know_, you've got it all handled, as always," he laughed, so confident she had it together. And she did, didn't she? She had everything together.

She said her goodbyes and turned down the hall. There was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach as she slowly walked to Racetrack's room. There was an uncertainty associated with it, of rounding the corner and not knowing what you're going to see.

She felt that a lot lately.

Sarah peeked her head into the room, having heard nothing from it she didn't want to sneak up on them. But when she caught sight of Spot at Race's bedside, he was smiling. Racetrack was sitting up in the hospital bed, his left leg in a cast from his hip all the way down to his toes. His normally olive complexion was pale and chalky under the hospital lights, though he too was smiling. Before he noticed Sarah, Race signed something to Spot, his hands moving in front of him quickly. Spot signed something back and waved Race away, his smile dipping slightly. Sarah didn't sign in the slightest and was almost happy she couldn't eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Hey, you!" she called brightly, fully rounding the corner with a smile on her face. Race threw both of his arms up when he saw her.

"Heeeeey!" he intoned, "It's not a party 'til a Jacobs sibling is here!" he cried jovially as Sarah walked to the other side of the bed from Spot.

"I highly doubt you've ever said that to David," she laughed, leaning over to wrap Racetrack in a gentle hug.

"Maybe I do, you wouldn't know. You're never around to hear it," he said playfully.

"Well, I'm here now. Care to regale me with how you did this?" She asked, gesturing to his leg. He smiled a classic Racetrack smile, all mischief and recklessness, but he did spare a nervous glance at Spot before continuing.

"Just racing cars while visiting some cousins out here. Believe it or not you can hydroplane on a dirt road. Did you know that, Sarah? Cause I certainly did not," he said, still grinning.

Before Sarah had a chance to tell him that yes she did, in fact, know that, Spot cut in, his voice low and angry,

"How fast were you going this time?" He asked.

Sarah nearly jumped at his tone. Spot had been smiling a second ago and she hadn't expected this turn of his mood. Race glanced away, eyebrows drawn, and she could tell that he had been wanting to avoid this part of the conversation.

"C'mon Spotty, I was just having a bit of-"

"How fast, Race?" Spot asked again and Sarah could see his fingernails digging into his skin where his arms were crossed. His eyes were hard, his frustration and anger radiating out at them.

"You really don't want to know," Race answered, his voice lower, suddenly sounding tired.

"Oh, I think I really do," Spot shot back. Race was looking anywhere but at him now and Sarah wished she could melt through the tiles at her feet, anything to escape the room.

"I think I topped out around 165," Race muttered.

"God _dammit_, Race!" Spot exploded, "You're lucky you're still fucking alive!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Keep it down, would ya? You want me to go to jail for this?" Race said under his breath, glancing out the door where the nurses' station sat only feet away.

"Maybe it would do you some good. Who the fuck do you think you are?" He yelled.

"You're just mad I didn't tell you I was going," Race said rolling his eyes, though Sarah knew his nonchalance was masking something.

"Yeah, you're right, that's _one_ of the things I'm mad about," Spot shot back.

"I already have a mother, you know, you don't need to act like one," he said.

"Oh, fuck you! I'd love to see what your mother would do if she knew you had been doing this again!" Spot yelled.

"No, fuck _you_ for acting so high and mighty like you never went off and did something stupid," Race shot back. Spot dropped his head in his hands, taking a step back and turning around for just a second and when he looked back at Race his eyes were blue fire.

"You _said_ you'd stop doing this. You _promised_," Spot said, his voice low and quiet. Race was silent for a second.

"C'mon man, don't do this now," he said, barely inclining his head toward Sarah. She should _not_ be here for this. She glanced up at Spot, who was already looking at her. The rage in his eyes barely masked the panic and fear that lay just below the surface. She bit her lip, raising her eyebrows at him, a silent question. Spot closed his eyes, wringing a hand through his hair.

She didn't know what he wanted her to do. Leave and give them time to have it out? Or stay so they had to keep it civil? Her instincts took over and she headed for the door, feeling like she wanted to run out of the room.

"I'll be right back," she said, and Spot met her eyes, the anger fading for a moment. She had her hand on the door frame, lingering a second to see his expression change. She didn't miss Racetrack looking back and forth between the two of them, but she ducked around the corner before she saw- or heard- what happened next.


End file.
